our family, our adventures … heading north

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Monthly Archives: September 2013

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a friday ritual. a single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. a simple, special, extraordinary moment. a moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

if you’re inspired to do the same, leave a link to your ‘moment’ in the comments for all to find and see.

. . . . . . . . . .

but this week, once a year, I doadd words. for this post is about how we started as a family, when we met in a county hospital and life forever was changed {for the better}

four pounds. sixteen inches. twelve days old.

my girl.

seven years ago I held on tight to this wee one and promised I’d never, ever let go … seven years later I’m still holding on and still in awe that I was chosen to be her momma. not a day goes by that I don’t thank the heavens above for this amazing child.

:: first toad caught in the backyard who fit so nicely on a momma fingertip

:: first bee sting on a little finger

:: first evening of backyard play with the neighborhood ‘gang’

:: first ‘crazy hair’ caterpillar spotted and, as you do, befriended

:: first encounter with a rafter of wild turkeys stopping us in our tracks, literally

{this momma’s} first day of the new job coming up — so we’re practicing our new normal with …

… first mornings of riding the bus to school!

in our old city, the little one would long to ride the bus to her city school but never wanted to venture to this uncharted territory. this momma would hear ‘it’s too much, just too much‘. so as a work-at-home momma, we had the undeniable luxury of driving to and from school.

this town is different in countless ways and the little one feels it deep in her bones. riding the bus to your neighborhood school is a neighborhood thing and a place where you can connect with that gang of buddies who backyard hopped in wonderful play just last night.

this morning the little one said ‘I’m excited … and a little nervous’ when waiting at the bus stop at the end of the neighbors driveway, hands wringing a little for good measure. but right beside her was a friend and classmate who already had those “first” feelings when school started a week or so ago and was there to guide the little one. never mind the bus driver that greets each child by name, including the little one who was greeted with a warm “I’m so glad I get to drive you to school!”, making this momma’s heart simply swell.

I can’t wait for morefirsts as the year goes by — and certainly as the years go by. but I’m also relishing the normalcy that comes after the firsts — lets call them the seconds and thirds — the ones where the flutters in your belly float away, where you find your footing solid underneath you, where your heart begins to sing and wings spread wide. these are the moments where seeds planted take root, flowers bud, and dreams take flight.

as much as I love experiencing firsts — it’s the secondsand thirds I long for.

we’re struggling to find our normalcy in the midst of such change. I’m struggling to keep normalcy for the little one – I’m struggling to keep normalcy for this momma. all of this is new, all of this different, all of this so unknown. new faces, new experiences, new sounds and new rhythms that have a little voice asking “when does it get dark here? it’s a different dark here than before.”

so I bring us back to nature time and again – to see the familiar, to smell and feel and same as we’ve always experienced. and, most importantly, to know that even when all is changing all around us, this is where we ground ourselves. I need to see this, I need to help the little one know that in all the ‘good-different’ she’s experiencing, there’s still so much that remains static. the oak leaves and the acorns, the pine needles and pine cones … and some of my favorite moss to explore and be so wholly accepted by its soft landing.

this momma is also learning to listen to more than words all the time from the little one. learning when to hold close and when to show the little one how big those wings can stretch. nurturing connections with new friends and nurturing the strong connections with friends who have been held so dear for so long. this balance in all of us, especially for the little one, is so hard, so uncharted, often so raw and so vulnerable.

here’s to sunsets and learning about the darkness that’s different, but not for long. here’s to finding, as we did last evening in the sun-setting haze, little toads that fit on a momma’s fingertip for the little one and her friend to investigate. here’s to knowing that tomorrow brings a beautiful sunrise and, with that, the ability to start another day, together, with our faces to the sunshine.

here’s to change and new adventures – and to letting go of some things to gain others.